


four times the master hurts the doctor and one time he doesn't

by rainow



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Blow Job, Character Study, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hate Sex, Like, Pain, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Wall Sex, and they're both completely feral, but their relationship is pretty toxic, do i have to tag it?, i guess, its complicated, look - Freeform, or just enemies, there's some sex, uhhh like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainow/pseuds/rainow
Summary: a collection of moments between the last time lords. does what it says on the tin. more or less.
Relationships: The Doctor & The Master (Doctor Who), The Doctor | Theta Sigma & The Master | Koschei (Doctor Who: Academy Era), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 75





	four times the master hurts the doctor and one time he doesn't

━━━━━━━━ 

“It's _your_ fault for picking _Doctor._ I told you it was sanctimonious. _No one_ asks Master _who._ ”

She just scoffs, pretending to be busier with the wind blowing her hair in her face than the conversation.

“What?” The Master pries with a provocative grin that’s more teeth than smile as tries to catch up with her.

“Mhemhemhe _master_ who.” _Fuck off._

He laughs. The Doctor rolls her eyes at him. She doesn’t want to entertain him.

“You’re not actually annoyed. I can tell, you know.”

“Ah! But I am – you _think_ y’know,” she tries, all hand gestures and sharp voice, time lord victorious.

There’s a small silence and she can feel the cold breeze play with her coat like a bad omen. He stops up behind her at the top of the hill they’ve been walking up.

Like the flick of a coin his voice suddenly drops. “No, Doctor, I really do.”

She halts. It’s notable the way her body tenses when he says her name like that.

“Do you _not_ think I do?”

 _Shut up_. “You’re _nothing_ to me,” she snarls back, too quick.

 _You’re everything to me_.

He laughs again, but it’s more like a wheezing cough. “That’s not true, Doctor. You really should stop lying.”

Her body turns and walks angrily towards him before she can process how much of a bad idea this is. She looks up at him, right into his big, big eyes, darker than black holes.

“I’m not lying,” she says, baring her teeth.

“Yes, you are, love.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I know everything about you.”

 _Don’t_.

“Do you _really_ think that I don’t know what you want the most when we do this, your _adventures_ , standing here and laughing like this, pretending everything’s _alright?_ ”

 _Please don’t_.

Out of the dark he takes her hand and squeezes tight. She feels the push immediately and breathes in through her nose, keeping her mouth shut so she doesn’t say something she’ll regret, like she usually does.

When she breathes out it’s like her entire body collapses into the touch, all their memories crashing over her like waves, but it’s her, _it’s her_ , it’s her, it’s her eyes, they’re dark and light and brown and blue and now, they’re green again.

_How can you feel like this all the time?_

**_How can you not, Theta?_ **

She doesn’t even notice the way she gravitates towards him with the pull of dual suns. He looks at her with disgust.

He stares into her jaded eyes. “I _know_ you,” he spits.

Then he shoves her hand away like it burns.

She just watches him turn on his heel, stalking away towards the TARDIS, leaving her alone on the top of a lonely hill on a lonely planet in a lonely universe.

━━━━━━━━

  
One of the things that annoys her the most is that this time around she’s shorter than him.

Whenever she looks at him, she has to tip her head slightly upwards, and it’s killing her pride. And her neck. She looks at him a lot, she's realised.

She looks at him whenever he speaks, usually just snarky jokes or an off-hand comment that (unintentionally) turns out to be actually helpful. Sometimes he even says something just for her amidst everyone else. Most of the time it isn't anything nice. She also looks at him when he does anything at all, really, just to check if he's causing or planning some general mischief.

Normally nothing happens.

But this time, she looks at him as they watch twin suns set, and it’s pure instinct to kiss him. She can’t help it. Her hand moves to his neck, tilting his head towards her as her thumb caresses his cheek. Gently, carefully. Like handling a wounded animal. She breathes out and leans in. His lips are chapped and soft against hers. But he still kisses the same.

The Master stills completely beneath her. His skin is warm like a fever and the air he breathes is warm too. A long, long time ago he kisses her back. He tastes like burning, still, bitter honey and olives and the stars they reached for with their first hands. She can taste the hesitance, the raw and brutal sadness within him. She wants to tell him she hurts, too, the ache between her hearts torn between him and the universe.

For some reason, he lets her kiss him. Maybe because she needs it, in the middle of galaxies and nebulas and all-consuming sorrow. Centuries pass before she pulls away for a breath she doesn’t need. Nose to nose, skin to skin.

He carefully reaches up to take her lingering hand in his, gently guiding it away from his face and holds it so, so tightly between his fingers made for crushing planets.

_Contact._

The grip is unyielding. She can feel all that anger and terror and grief wash over her like waves, oh, the glorious horror of a thousand dying stars. She lets it drown her. He doesn’t let go of her hand and he’s holding it tighter and tighter, the ever-lasting heartbeat louder and louder, he’s pushing around her mind from _everywhere_ around her and the he's the universe and the universe is burning and they are burning and she can barely breathe through the pretty shapes in the smoke and he doesn’t let go.

The bones in her small and fragile hand bend and break and she can feel every second it, the skin will bruise and she will cry out in pain when she lets it hurt but not yet not yet not yet because he’s so close to her the air he breathes is on her lips, and she’s holding her breath.

His eyes are big and sad this time, he can’t hide anything from her in them now, looking into hers. She thinks she may have had these before, these jaded green eyes welling with tears in the face of the one she loves.

 _Don’t do that again,_ he says.

She’s not sure if he’s saying it out loud even though his lips move.

His Adam’s apple bobs underneath his throat when he swallows. She can tell it’s not an order, but a desperate prayer from a broken man with hollow, pleading eyes.

 _Okay_ , she says, with her broken hand and chest full of broken hearts. But she lies, she lies, she lies.

━━━━━━━━

The only other person in the console room when the Doctor strides in is the Master, sitting against one of the walls, body tense, foot tapping. Her eyes dart desperately around the room for someone, _something_ else to buffer the conversation.

_Oh, no._

Sometimes they don’t see him for weeks. He wouldn’t be here without a reason. She stands unsure, shifting her weight between her feet. He doesn’t look up.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I’ll go,” she says hastily, turning to walk away from the console room – away from him, and hopefully far, far away from talking.

She's already well gone down a corridor when he stands up with a sudden motion and follows her.

He’s fast. The footsteps startle her.

“What?” She sighs, and whirls around only to be met by his hand gripping her neck and slamming her into the wall. She reaches for his hand with both of hers, trying to loosen his grip a little. His thumb brushes over her bottom lip while he keeps the chokehold, eventually making his way into her mouth, forcing it open with his thumb on her tongue. A gentle moan escapes her, but he looks her dead in the eye and tightens the grip around her neck. She swallows thickly.

“Hush, now. On your knees.”

“Wha-“

“I said on your _knees_.” The Master is not a patient man. She drops down automatically, like she used to in her previous bodies. Muscle memory, she figures. He sticks his thumb back into her mouth. He looks angry. “Stay.”

She looks up at him from where she kneels, mouth slightly agape. He lets go of her bottom lip to unbutton his trousers and doesn’t break eye contact. The Doctor feels something sit inside her, an aching between her legs as he stares at her. He wants her to know that it’s going to hurt. _Good_ , she wants to challenge him. She swallows again.

It’s only a matter of seconds before she's taking him in her mouth, his hand grasping her hair in a fist with a solid grip to her scalp. Her other hand automatically reaches for his to wrestle the hold, but she’s not as strong as him this time around. Soon enough he’s hard, her new reflexes gagging on his cock as he fucks her mouth. “Up," he hisses, with a deep breath through his nose.

She doesn’t really process it, too busy focusing on the desire starting to burn in her.

“Up!”

His hand is back to her neck and he nudges her up harshly by her throat, slamming her against the wall again. She lets out a yelp as her head hits the metal. He tears down the suspenders from her shoulders, letting them hang around her hips as he unbuttons her pants with one hand, the other keeping her body up against the corridor. Her tongue darts over her bottom lip as she breathes heavily, drying the spit from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. His fingers move down to rub over her clit for a few seconds before he slips a finger, then two, inside her. A mocking smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he looks at her with condescending eyes. “Oh, _Doctor_ , you’re wet already,” he sneers at her. He leans back a little just to watch her for a second proud of how disheveled she looks from his touch,. He scoffs at her flushed face as he positions himself to push into her, wringing a gasp from her lips.

It doesn't take long before they fall back into a familiar rhythm, the grip around her neck tightening again as she slings one arm around his shoulder for leverage to hold her self up. A small wince tumbles from her lips as she pushes the fingers on her other hand softly around his to make it easier to breathe. “You’re hurting me- “

“ _Good_ ,” he growls into her ear. His voice is low and harsh, breathing fast, pressing against the side of her head.

She throws her head against the wall with another moan of pleasure and pain, digging her nails into his skin. She can feel the blood rushing to her head. He thrusts faster, harder and deeper into her. “Please- “ He doesn’t listen.

_Kosch-_

**_That’s not my name anymore._ **

She closes her eyes.

“Say it.”

He bares her teeth at her and rams into her, harder than ever before. “ _Say_ my _name!_ ”

“…Master,” she whimpers.

“Again.”

“Master.”

“Again!”

“ _Master!_ ” she cries, her head falling against his, and it hurts, he’s inside her body and her mind and he’s filling her up to the brim. Then he comes inside her, breathing heavily into her neck, and it's over.

They breathe in tandem, hearts beating fast. They dwell there for a few seconds. She leans her head back against the wall and looks at him with tears in her eyes, struggling to regain her composure.

He looks up at her. “What?” It takes her a while to respond. " _What?_ " 

She swallows. Her voice is hoarse. “Would you, just, er, kiss me-“

He stares at her with disgust and pulls out. He slowly buttons his trousers back on as she sinks down to the floor. Then he walks away, leaving the lonely god with her knees pushed to her chest and her face buried in her shaking hands.

━━━━━━━━

The companions don't know what to do, they want to help but they don't dare to do anything but watch the last Time Lords.

The Master has to throw himself over the console to wring the Doctor's hands away from the controls, her small frame suddenly surprisingly strong as she tries to push him away. He sighs and steps back to take a proper hold around her body and drag her away, holding her tighter when she tries to kick him and get away. 

"Doctor, _stop_."

"I'm going to fix it-" the Doctor staggers out. She's pale and has dark circles under her eyes.

"What, like you always do?" The Master says harshly. He's tired too. 

"Yes."

"You can't."

"You don't know that," she says, through gritted teeth, and wrestles her way out of his grip. They were boys once. Boys whose hands never let go of each other, the way their hearts beat in tandem as they ran faster and faster through those fields.

"You can't. Not this time."

"And why not? _Why_ not, Kosch? What makes this different to every other time I've saved them? Pulled their lifeless bodies out from the ashes, just to save them time and _time_ again?"

"Doctor."

"No! What makes this different?! What makes this different to all the times I've rescued them, that damn _planet_? This godforsaken _universe_?"

"It's all gone now, Doctor. I know you know, because I _know_ you can feel it too. Right there, in the middle of your chest. It's finally gone."

"I won't let it," she says with tears in her eyes.

_..._

"It's time to stop running," the Master says, looking her dead in the eye. "Go to bed, Doctor."

━━━━━━━━

The Master doesn’t sleep anymore. There’s too much to think about.

Those timeless heartbeats, constantly in his chest – _onetwothreefour. Onetwothreefour_. When he closes his eyes, all he can see is the smoke, his hearts drum at his temples, louder and _louder and louder and-_

He opens his eyes again. His mind is filled with Gallifrey burning. It’s all the Doctor’s fault.

He knows the Doctor, like him, keep going until they pass out. He knows the Doctor hates sleeping. He knows the Doctor says _it’s wasted time that could and SHOULD be spent so much more productively, really, I once invented a way for octopi to mate telepathically when I was dreaming in an awake state, maybe that’s called daydreaming, alas, at least it’s NOT sleeping because I was very well awake and aware_ , but the Master knows it’s because the Doctor is afraid of the nightmares.

He also knows the Doctor has been awake for two consecutive weeks. Even for Time Lords, that’s just stupid.

So when the door to his room opens halfway in the middle of the night, (well, what the TARDIS adjusts for them as night in the time vortex) letting a beam of light from the corridor shine over his bedroom floor, for some reason he doesn’t try to kill her.

He can tell she’s afraid. By her breathing, the way she stands, the beat of her hearts and her mere presence in his head. He doesn’t move. He knows she knows he’s awake, too. She stands there, lingering, for what seems like ages until she eventually steps forward, slowly.

They stay like that for a while, both of them testing the edges of the other’s mind.

He will never admit it, but he admires her courage sometimes.

She kicks her boots off, carefully, and lies down beside him. The bed barely moves underneath the weight of her body. She curls away from him, facing the wall, like a child. He doesn’t breathe.

They lay there for some time, completely still.

 _Onetwothreefour. Onetwothreefour_.

He keeps staring at the ceiling and feels the jaded edges of her mind gently brushing against his, nothing more. It’s in tune with her body, which is smaller than he’s used to, this time. Like he could crush it with just one hand.

He looks at her, barely moving his neck. Her hair falls over the pillow and some of it over her face because she doesn’t dare move to push it away. He smiles slightly. Her shirt rides up just a little bit when she’s bent like this, exposing the small of her back. Her chest moves up and down with the rise and fall of her breaths.

She doesn’t make a sound, but the Master thinks she’s on the verge of crying. She does that a lot. She yells a lot, too. But this Doctor breaks silently. When she’s angry or sad or absolutely, utterly ruined. And especially when she looks at him.

 _It’s their fault_ , he thinks. _For what they did to us_.

He hates her and he loves her with all the burning rage and pain in his hearts. _Burning, burning, burning, burning._ He almost can’t bear to look at her.

 _Onetwothreefour._ It burns brighter than Gallifrey.

He sighs and turns to her. Her body tenses as the mattress shifts. He wraps his arm around her slowly, pulling her to his chest.

She burns, she burns, she burns.

He slips his hand underneath her shirt, right over her solar plexus. And they lie like that, like they used to, her heartbeats under his fingers. _Onetwothreefour_.

( _They beat for you_ , she used to say, when she was a scared boy under red trees that are only ashes now.)

His grip tightens, nails burrowing into her skin and she inhales sharply, skin against skin against skin against skin. He feels the nightmares. He knows them. And he takes them. Just for now. Her body relaxes and they breathe out together. And in. And out. And in again.

She still smells the same.

He buries his face into the nape of her neck and after a while, she falls asleep.


End file.
